Love Song
by Suspicious Popsicle
Summary: Yuri was not accustomed to giving complicated gifts, but... Ten years was a long time. That called for at least a little something special, didn't it? (Fluri one shot)


A/N: Based on this prompt from Alicyana on tumblr: Yuri decides to give Flynn a special present for their 10th anniversary ~ NSFWish.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from _Tales of Vesperia_ and do not belong to me.

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Sometimes, when Yuri sat in the window of his tiny room above The Comet and stared out over the familiar corner of Zaphias that would always be home, he could still almost see the curve of the barrier spell that used to protect the city. Ten years after all the world's blastia cores had been converted into spirits, memory could still conjure the faded imprints of the lines that had once cut up the sky. So much had changed, yet the time seemed to have flown past. Some days, Yuri felt like he was still the exact same person he'd been when it had all started. Other days, he couldn't believe he'd wasted so much time just watching the world pass by from the same window he was currently sitting in.

Shifting restlessly on his perch, Yuri caught a glimpse of the small, wooden box that sat on his old table, and quickly turned his attention back out to the city. The past was filling up the room, making him antsy and anxious to get moving, to be out and about _doing_ something. Yuri wasn't accustomed to falling prey to the spells of nostalgia, but he felt like he'd spent the past several weeks walking hand-in-hand with memories. They clustered thickly around him, less substantial than the shining dust motes caught in the light of the setting sun, but powerful enough to almost overwhelm him. He wanted to jump down to the street and go racing through the Lower Quarter. He wondered if he could bait Flynn into a game of tag when he finally showed up. The thought made him grin. It would probably do the Commandant a world of good to spend a bit of time acting like a kid again. It would even be worth the exasperated eye roll afterward, the crooked smile, the admonition: 'Really, Yuri? We're thirty-two years old.' Still young enough to duck Flynn in the fountain if he got too high and mighty.

He laughed softly. Ten years. It didn't seem as long now as it certainly would have back then. He stole another look at the box and wondered how long Flynn was going to keep him waiting.

Earlier that afternoon, Yuri had gone up to the palace and seen himself in through the front doors. He didn't climb the wall to Flynn's chambers too often anymore, although he kept in practice because one never knew when that might come in handy. Today, however, he hadn't really wanted to surprise Flynn, and he knew that if being Commandant had him occupied elsewhere in the palace, a messenger would get to him before Yuri made it to his state room.

Yuri hadn't been disappointed. A page had appeared at his side just as Flynn's door had come into view. The boy had a message from Flynn, letting Yuri know that he would return just as soon as he could. Yuri hadn't been interested in waiting around, however. He had sent the page back with a message for Flynn: 'Come meet me when you're done' and then he'd left the palace behind.

Outside, sunlight had hit him like a welcome weight, and Yuri had shivered as he'd looked back at the glittering white stone and soaring towers. It was always a little chilly in the palace. Definitely not the right place for what he had planned. He'd turned his back on it and returned to his room to wait.

Waiting had gotten very old, very quickly. No matter how Yuri tried to lose himself in watching the flood of life through the Lower Quarter streets, no matter how many memories presented themselves for his attention, the box he'd placed on the table never entirely left his thoughts. It led him to second-guess himself, to wonder if he'd gone too far, if the gesture would be too much, if Flynn might even think it strange. Yuri was not accustomed to giving complicated gifts, but...

Ten years was a long time. That called for at least a little something special, didn't it?

Too late for doubts now. He'd already had it made. He'd thought ahead and _commissioned_ it. The two of them hadn't ever made a habit of celebrating, but even Flynn, with his poor recollection of special dates, had always remembered. Hard to forget an anniversary that fell on the same day that the world had been saved.

The memory brought a smile to Yuri's face. Flynn had waited to spring a confession on him until after the Adephagos had been defeated. Hell of a thing to welcome someone home with, although Yuri would have been lying if he'd said he hadn't suspected, even secretly hoped for it. Yuri could still see Flynn as he'd looked that day, sitting beneath a tree on a hill overlooking Zaphias. He remembered the way Flynn's hair had fallen over his face, a mess of choppy blond locks, as usual. He remembered how pale his lashes had been, paler than the freckled skin of Flynn's cheeks. Yuri remembered the slight flush of pink in Flynn's skin, remembered how pale his own hand had looked in comparison, remembered the gentle touch of lips over the backs of his fingers. He remembered the sudden tightness in his chest as Flynn had opened his eyes and lifted his gaze, remembered thinking that it should be impossible for eyes to be so blue or to hold such earnest affection, such love. He had hardly needed to hear the words, but Flynn had said them, anyway.

At the time, Yuri had teased Flynn about having waited. He'd tried to hide the pounding of his heart with a crooked smile and a joke about how distracted he might have been, otherwise. It was later that night, squeezed close together in his old, single bed with Flynn's head resting on the shared pillow and their fingers twined between them, that Yuri thought maybe it had been a show of trust, that Flynn had placed all his faith in Yuri's victory. He'd curled in against Flynn, exhausted but too happy to sleep, and half afraid that everything might have been nothing but a dream. Yuri had drifted off that night with the rhythmic tickle of Flynn's breath over his cheek.

Down in the street, a familiar mop of unruly blond hair caught Yuri's eye and pulled him out of the past. He raised a hand and waved at Flynn, who beamed up at him and walked a bit quicker. A breeze caressed Yuri's cheek, and he turned his face away, smiling at memories and the heavy tread of boots up the old staircase. Flynn let himself in without knocking, and Yuri got up to greet him, as drawn to him now as he had been since childhood.

Flynn had brought a bottle of wine with him, and hugged Yuri awkwardly with one arm. His smile was still lopsided and boyish beneath hair that he never kept neatly trimmed. It made Yuri think that his friend wouldn't ever entirely grow up, would always have a part of his spirit that was more at home tearing across the countryside and sparring with his best friend than acting as one of the leaders of the Empire. It was reassuring, and Yuri squeezed him a little tighter and pressed a brief kiss to his lips before taking a step back.

"When I'd heard that you were going to be in town, I thought we might have a nice dinner up on the sword stair," Flynn said. "I guess you have other ideas, though."

"Just the one." Yuri grinned wickedly. Let Flynn think he meant making use of the bed. That wasn't the reason he'd called Flynn down from the palace.

Setting the bottle of wine down on the table, Flynn paused to study the box. "What's this?"

"It's a gift for you." His heart was beating faster even before Flynn looked up sharply at him. Yuri took up his perch in the window once more, gaze turned out over the city. "Open it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Flynn hesitate a moment longer before picking up the box. Yuri hadn't bothered to wrap it. It was made of sturdy, weathered wood, smooth as silk to the touch and expertly fitted together. The top of the box featured a simple inlay of two crossed swords: one of dark steel, and the other of pale silver. Yuri crossed his arms, resting them on one drawn-up knee and fighting back the urge to fidget as Flynn examined the box. He must have felt the key on the bottom, because Yuri caught the quick movement of his hands as he turned it over. Any moment now...

The latch clicked softly as Flynn lifted the lid of the music box, and then the first notes chimed slowly out into the room. Yuri bit his tongue to keep from humming along. He wanted Flynn to be able to hear it properly.

Yuri had spent half a day going over the notes with the clockmaker and listening to them played back so that he could make corrections. It hadn't been an easy task. He had a habit of pitching himself too low, and it wasn't often that he'd heard Flynn humming the song. He'd made a lot of mistakes before they had managed to cobble together the right tune. It had been a lullaby Norein used to sing. Yuri had only heard it from her on one occasion, when he'd been recovering from a bad fever. Over the years however, in rare, unguarded moments, he'd heard Flynn hum the song under his breath. It meant something to him, and Yuri had learned it as best he could. It hadn't been one of the lullabies popular in the Lower Quarter, so he'd assumed it had been something she'd learned in the Public Quarter before the Scifo family had moved into Yuri's neighborhood.

For years, the song had sat in the back of Yuri's mind, tinged with nostalgia and linked inextricably to thoughts of Flynn. Now, it played aloud from the music box, notes unspooling as the spring slowly wound down. It was an odd, meandering melody, a repeating verse without a chorus, slow and swaying, soft and gentle. The only sounds in the room were the twinkling music and the muddle of noises from the marketplace below. Flynn and Yuri both were absolutely silent.

As the second repetition ended and the third started up, Yuri snuck a glance at Flynn. Expecting to see him entranced, the smile was wiped from Yuri's face at the sight of tears running down Flynn's cheeks. He was off the windowsill and across the small room before he had time to think, reaching out for the box to snatch it away and close it up.

"Damn. Flynn, I'm sorry, I didn't think—" He _had_ thought, though. He'd thought Flynn was over his mother's death. He'd thought the music box would be a memento, a little reminder. He hadn't thought it would upset Flynn the way it had.

"It's okay."

Flynn's voice was thick, but he pulled the music box protectively away from Yuri's reach. When he got a good look at the expression on Yuri's face, he actually laughed shortly and rubbed first one eye and then the other with the heel of his palm. He sniffed and laughed again, the sound of it choked, but not unhappy. Yuri eased back, not sure where to look or what he ought to do. He toyed with the heavy gold cuff around his wrist as Flynn regained his composure. The music box sang quietly, almost soothingly aside from the fact that it had just moved the Commandant of the Imperial Knights to tears.

"How—" Flynn cleared his throat and tried again. "How did you manage to get this?"

"I had it made." Yuri fidgeted. Explaining all that had gone into getting the music box had _not_ been part of his plans for the evening.

"Yes, but the song..." Flynn finally looked away from the box once more. His eyes were slightly red-rimmed, but their intensity was the same as on the day he had confessed his love to Yuri. "My father wrote it for my mother before they were married. You didn't know—" He shrugged that off with a smile. "You wouldn't have." He looked back down at the music box in his hand. The delicate chimes still hadn't begun to slow. "It's not so much a lullaby as a love song."

For a moment, Yuri was stunned into stillness. He shook it off and shrugged, smiling faintly. "Heh. Guess that got a bit more serious than I'd meant."

"I suppose so. I feel a little guilty now about not having prepared anything for you."

Yuri waved off his concern. They'd never made a big deal out of it in the past given that their work kept them busy as often as not. Besides, with as much history as they had between them, Yuri had always felt it silly to pick one event and call it an anniversary. They'd been together almost as long as he could remember, and every twist and turn of their paths had led them to where they stood. The day it had started— _really_ started—had been a bright summer afternoon, the exact date lost among the days of childhood, when Yuri had reached out to the boy with the eyes like a cloudless sky and Flynn had first taken his hand.

This time, it was Flynn that reached out, and Yuri automatically slipped a hand into his. Flynn pulled him close, crushing him in a hug. The music box chimed near one of Yuri's ears, and he heard Flynn's quiet 'Thank you' murmured in the other. Squeezing him just a bit tighter, Flynn kissed Yuri's cheek. He was grinning as Yuri pushed him away, laughing and complaining that he needed to be able to breathe.

"I can't really imagine your dad humming this to your mom," Yuri said. "From what I remember, he wasn't exactly a quiet sort of guy."

"There were all sorts of verses." Yuri could almost feel the memories swarming Flynn as he wound the music box again and set it down on the table. "He made up new ones all the time. My mother used to joke that he would add them on like pearls to a necklace." He was smiling wryly, fingers caressing the lid of the box as it played. "I don't remember most of them, only the oldest ones that always started the song."

He turned away from the table, catching Yuri up in his arms, and a different sort of excitement set Yuri's heart racing once more. Flynn took Yuri's face in his hands, palms warming his cheeks before he carded his fingers through Yuri's hair, ran them down his neck and over his shoulders. They held each other close, lips meeting for a kiss. The ardency of Flynn's lips dancing like flames against Yuri's own was exciting and reassuring all at once. While he hadn't intended the music box to be quite so eloquent a declaration of love, he wasn't about to take it back now. He sought Flynn's lips with the breaking of the kiss, felt them slide along his cheek and tickle against his ear, then Flynn's voice, soft and far more suited to singing than Yuri's, sounded in his ear.

"Press my cheek to yours  
And wonder: How could I be  
So lucky in love?"

The words danced through the light rain of notes. Yuri closed his eyes, listening to the smile in Flynn's voice and committing the lyrics to memory. Flynn moved against him and Yuri followed his lead, letting himself be guided in a swaying dance.

"You laugh as we dance  
Though I'm stumbling into you.  
Oh, my gray-eyed love."

Norein's eyed had been brown. Yuri remembered that much as he peppered Flynn's cheek and neck with kisses. Beneath his palms, he felt the muscles of Flynn's back shift as he stepped and turned in their slow dance. Not much space to move in Yuri's cramped room, and not many places to go. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, Flynn took one step back too many and hit the bed. He dropped to sit on the mattress, and Yuri followed him down, straddling his waist and catching him up in a kiss. The music box played on as belts were loosened, tunics blindly unbuttoned and pushed aside by wandering hands. They were breathing harshly by the time Yuri toppled himself onto the bed and pulled Flynn down on top of him. The warmth of the setting sun on his skin had been nothing compared to the heat of Flynn's chest pressed down against his, the feel of his breath across Yuri's throat in the moment before lips and tongue followed. Gasps and the wet smack of kisses drowned out the quiet chimes of the music box, but Flynn kissed his way up the curve of Yuri's jaw, seeking his ear. He sang quietly, breathlessly.

"Will you walk with me?  
Through all life's joys and sorrows  
Side-by-side my love."

The spring of the music box wound down long before they finished their lovemaking, but Yuri was awash with the verses that spilled from Flynn's mouth and anointed his skin with every kiss.


End file.
